by Sylvie Kurtz
She could read nothing on his face. He’d said little throughout the proceeding. Yet she’d felt his support and saw it now in the depth of his gaze.
Reluctantly, she stepped outside the barn. She pressed her thumb twice on the remote before she found the button. As the gate slowly opened, Bancroft whistled and gestured to his driver. The van’s engine rumbled to life.
Without looking at her, Bancroft said, “Get those damn horses ready to go.”
With a heavy heart, she turned and headed back inside the barn. She couldn’t look at Apollo.
I’m sorry. But words would never be enough.
Not only had she failed to speak for him, she was sending him to his death.
ELLEN LOOKED so sad and fragile as she petted the two horses goodbye. Unshed tears shone in her eyes. She fought to keep her features neutral, but her internal pain showed as plain as a neon sign.
She handed Kevin Apollo’s lead. “Would you load him, please? I’ll get Pandora.”
Kevin nodded. He wanted to hold her and reassure her that she’d done her best to help the animals. But if he touched her, all he’d earn was a swift boot right off the ranch. He was responsible for her vulnerability and wouldn’t take advantage of it.
The sheriff was already suspicious. Kevin had noticed the piercing look that studied his every move, felt it down to his marrow. He swallowed the knot of emotion in his throat. Instead of clasping his twin into a bear hug and asking for forgiveness, as he’d often done when they were younger, he had to maintain his distance in order to stay and protect Ellen. He couldn’t take the chance the sheriff would escort him out of town if he knew Kevin’s real identity.
Apollo’s hooves clopped on the barn’s concrete aisle, then padded softly on the earth outside.
Ah, Pajackok, have I not taught you anything?
You have, Grandmother, but I can’t take a chance. Not yet. Ellen still needs me and I can’t be sure of Kent.
Pah! It’s you you’re trying to protect, not your brother, not Ellen.
With a hand, he buzzed at the voice in his head as if it were a pesky fly. He had to concentrate on the task at hand—load the horse and deflect the sheriff’s interest.
The closer he and Apollo got to the blue transport van, the more Apollo’s muscles bunched. His eyes widened. His ears twitched back and forth. He made a halfhearted try at rearing, then backed up. Kevin let him go as far back as he wanted. Halfway to the barn, Apollo stopped.
The horse was afraid of the van. After his accident last week, who could blame him? Kevin let him stand for a few minutes, then started back toward the van. He didn’t force the horse to go forward, but coaxed him. He applied light pressure on the lead rope. Then each time Apollo offered any forward movement, Kevin released the pressure.
After ten minutes, Apollo stood quietly with his head inside the van. His front feet were just outside the door on the ramp. Kevin let him stand and study the spooky insides, then backed him away from the van to relieve some of the pressure.
“What the hell are you doin’?” Bancroft bellowed. “You almost had him in.”
“Leave him alone,” Ellen said. She stood out of the way, holding Pandora. “Apollo’s scared to death of going in there after what happened last week.”
“Horses don’t have any feelin’s.”
Her jaw moved, but she didn’t answer. If she hadn’t been holding Pandora, Kevin would have bet she’d have slugged Bancroft. He silently seconded the urge.
After five more minutes, Kevin had Apollo back to the top of the ramp. He noticed Bancroft’s patience was wearing thin once more. The man kept looking at his watch and pacing a tight circle. He was going to have a conniption any minute now. But Kevin wasn’t going to pressure Apollo to conform to anyone’s schedule.
Kevin climbed into the compartment and asked Apollo to step inside.
Bancroft exploded. “Stop babyin’ the damn horse and just get him in there.”
“He’s almost there,” Kevin said, keeping his voice slow and easy. “Give me another ten or fifteen minutes.”
“Oh, for cryin’ out loud! It’s goin’ to take all day at this rate.”
“Doesn’t bother me.”
Bancroft swiped the hat off his head and slapped Apollo’s backside.
“Knock it off!” Kevin tried to steady the spooked horse. “Get away from him.”
Bancroft raised his hand to slap the horse again.
“Let him out!”
The hat smacked Apollo’s flank for the second time. He turned on Kevin with fire in his eyes. Ears laid back, he bit him soundly on the right shoulder. Kevin rebounded out of the way of the attacking horse. Apollo backpedaled down the ramp. He reached the end of the lead rope with such force that the rope burned Kevin’s hand as it whipped out of his grip. At the end of the ramp, Apollo’s injured leg went under him. He started falling, scrambled to his feet, then lit out as if the hounds of hell were after him.
Before Ellen could reach for the remote clipped to her belt, Apollo was out the gate.
The bite was so strong, Kevin’s shoulder muscle throbbed. The pain spread all the way to his elbow, but he barely noticed it. Aggravated didn’t even come close to describing the hot lava spewing inside him. He marched over to Bancroft and grabbed the front of his starched shirt with his good left hand.
“Not only did you ruin the trust I’d built with the horse, but you won’t get him near a trailer any time soon.” Raw emotions strangled his voice to a mere whisper. The need to punch Bancroft’s face swelled like an infected boil. But once he started hitting, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop, and that wouldn’t do Apollo or Ellen any good.
“You want that horse loaded.” He shoved Bancroft back. “Do it yourself.”
He turned to the judge. “I’ll be glad to try again once Maverick here’s out of the way.”
The judge nodded. “Let’s get the other one loaded.”
Bancroft ordered his driver to run after Apollo and yelled obscenities at Kevin and Ellen. “This is what you call competent care?”
“Mr. Bancroft,” the judge said, “I suggest you calm down. You’ve caused quite enough turmoil for one day.”
“I don’t have to stand for this.”
“No,” the judge agreed, “you don’t. I suggest you leave now and let these people load your remaining horse. At the rate you’re going, you won’t be taking any of them home.”
Bancroft’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll be hearin’ from me.”
He jerked Tessa’s hand. Tottering on her high heels, she followed him.
Kevin strode to the barn, hoping his temper wouldn’t catch up with him and make him do something he’d regret.
KEVIN HAD LEFT with Blue at his heels. Ellen knew he was looking for Apollo. The bite he’d taken to his shoulder had looked vicious. He had to be in pain, but he was doing what she would have done—putting the horse first. She wasn’t expecting him to show again until after the van left. Then she’d insist he take care of his injury.
She followed Kevin’s example and took her time loading Pandora. She allowed the mare to get over her fear of the van. An hour later, Pandora was comfortably settled and ready to go. Reluctantly, Ellen walked away.
Watching the truck disappear down the road made her stomach churn. She’d failed Pandora. With her gentle spirit, retraining the mare would have taken little time and would have provided someone with a fine companion. What a waste!
“I’m going to send someone out to cast those footprints and tire tracks,” Chance said. His expression told her he didn’t think it would do much good.
“Thanks.”
Chance and the judge left. She closed the gate behind them. The ordeal was over—for now. She turned away. Weariness crept into her bones. When she reached the barn, Kevin and Dr. Parnell were standing at the far end, examining Apollo.
Bancroft’s impatience had given the horse a reprieve. If only she could have saved Pandora, too. She shook her head. Worrying over what
couldn’t be changed was a waste of energy. She had eight more horses who were counting on her. She had to concentrate on them.
“Is he okay?” She studied every inch of the chestnut horse’s hide.
“He’ll be fine.” Dr. Parnell put the finishing touches on Apollo’s bandage. “You may want to ice the leg again tonight.”
She nodded. “Will he be okay outside? He prefers to spend the night in the pasture.” She shrugged. “And after another trailer terror…”
“He’d be better off inside, but if you keep him in one of your smaller pens, he should do all right.”
“Okay,” she said, “I’ll do that.”
“Have you noticed how easily the horses get out of breath?” Kevin asked.
Ellen frowned. Apollo’s nostrils flared as if he’d just finished a race. His sides heaved. “How long have you been back?”
“A good twenty minutes,” Kevin said. “He didn’t go that far. With his leg, he couldn’t. Blue found him by the back-pasture fence. I took him home the back way. He should have cooled down by now.”
“He was under a lot of stress.”
“It’s not just him. Pandora, too. That short walk from the barn to the truck had her huffing and puffing.”
“All the Bancroft horses fatigue easily. It’s because of the stress of their injuries.”
“They’re young—three and four years old.” A blade of hay twirled in Dr. Parnell’s mouth as he spoke. “And they’re coming off the track, so they’re at the peak of conditioning.”
“But they’ve been through a lot. And seeing how Bancroft has so little regard for them, maybe he overworked them.”
Dr. Parnell’s face pruned. “It’s been a week and most of the original trauma stress should have faded. Especially with your tender care.”
“Can you run some tests?” Kevin asked, then turned to Ellen. “It’s up to you, of course.”
“What kind of tests?” Had she overlooked something important?
He shrugged. “Tox screen.”
She gasped. “You think Bancroft drugged them?”
Kevin glanced at Dr. Parnell.
The vet spit out the blade of hay. “Possibility.”
“It’s been a week. Would the drugs still show up in their blood?”
“Depends.”
A million questions whirled into her mind, but the answers didn’t matter—only the horses’ welfare.
“Okay, then. Run every test you can think of.” If she could prove abuse of that kind, it would give her ammunition to fight for them when the judge came back in two weeks. “Can you do the tests now?”
A wide smile lit Dr. Parnell’s round face. “I just happen to have everything I need in my truck.”
Favoring his right arm, Kevin held each horse in turn while Dr. Parnell drew blood samples. Ellen handed out the noontime ration of hay. Blue guarded the barn door like some Cerberus at the gates of Hades.
Once finished, Dr. Parnell gathered his things and prepared to leave. “I’ll let you know the results as soon as I get them.”
“Thank you.”
Ellen pressed the remote to close the gate behind Dr. Parnell, then rounded on Kevin. “How long were you going to suffer in silence?”
He gave her a sheepish grin. “As long as it took to hang on to my job.”
“It’s yours for at least the next two weeks.” As much as she hated to admit it, he’d proved helpful. And right now, she needed every form of ammunition she could get. She gave him a light shove in the ribs, propelling him toward the tack room. “Sit. Take off your shirt and let me look at the damage.”
TESSA BANCROFT STARED at the black horse in the stall of the high-tech barn she insisted be kept as immaculate as an operating room. Teeth bared, he lunged at her, nipping the metal bars fronting the upper half of the door. Then he turned his back on her, twitched his tail and tore into the hay rack in the corner.
He was mean as the devil, but he was healthy. No change had shown up in his blood chemistry. Two years was a record. Besides, temperament didn’t interest her as much as results. And the black could fly.
The others had deteriorated since the accident. How long before fatigue escalated to the next stage? Soon curiosity would overwhelm even a guileless woman like Ellen Paxton. She would ask questions. She would involve her veterinarian. Then what? Would they understand what they were seeing? If this farce went on for much longer, the project might be compromised.
Getting Bradley to back away from his avenging-hero role had taken much sweet-talking. The last thing she needed was a battery of lawyers putting the horses under a microscope. The evidence had to be destroyed, but Tessa couldn’t bring any attention to herself.
If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. Tessa smiled as she thought of Sister Mary Frances’s cheery voice. This wasn’t a shoe-tying lesson at the group home, but the advice was nonetheless wise. How else could a girl like her have gotten so far?
What she needed, Tessa decided as she strode to the offices at the back end of the barn, was an advantage. Advantage came from learning your opponent’s weakness.
“How good are you with that computer?” Tessa asked the mousy technician sitting at the desk.
The girl looked up and blinked at her owlishly.
Tessa bit her tongue, then slowly articulated. “Can you get me information on people if I give you names?”
“Off the Internet?” The girl lifted a shoulder. “Sure.”
Tessa scribbled three names on a piece of scratch paper, started to hand it to the girl, then added a fourth. “Get me everything you can on these people.”
“The horses’ data. You wanted charts and—”
“Do the search, then finish with your work.” There was precious little Tessa disliked more than whining. Good help was impossible to find these days.
“I’ve got class tonight.”
A lady never swears, Sister Mary Frances had been fond of saying. So Tessa swallowed the curse on the tip of her tongue, rubbed the locket at her throat and smiled. “Then if you want to get there in time, I suggest you stop whining and get to work.”
The black would run in less than three weeks. He would win. Tessa wouldn’t let anything or anyone get in the way of her goal.
I’ll show you. I’ll show you all.
Chapter Five
In the tack room, the fan on the ceiling swirled nothing but hot air. The back of Ellen’s neck itched. Sweat soaked her feet through her socks and she wanted nothing more than to take off her boots. Her T-shirt was glued to her back. Her jeans felt like an ungainly second skin.
Because the window’s stuck. Because the sun beats on the barn’s metal sides. Because the room is so small. Especially now that Kevin practically filled it. She swiped a stray piece of hair from her cheek and blew out a stale breath.
Cap in hand, Kevin turned to face her. “I’m fine.”
She pointed to the closed trunk that held spare pieces of equipment. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
He started to protest, but she stopped him with a raised hand. “You won’t do me much good if you can’t work.”
With a nervousness that seemed out of place in such a strong man, he sat on the edge of the trunk. Turning his back to her, he removed his shirt.
Even from the doorway, she could tell the action was painful. He guarded his shoulder and brought the T-shirt down his injured arm rather than raising it over his head. The nasty purpling and swollen redness made her suck in a breath. So did the old scars crisscrossing his back like some madman’s game of tic-tac-toe. “He got you good.”
“That he did.”
The broad shoulders veed to narrow hips. The play of muscles on his back was taut and lean, deliciously masculine. As she approached him, her breathing shallowed and her pulse sped. The dust motes seemed to fall in slow motion in the shaft of light piercing through the window.
Gently she prodded the area of the bite. The texture of his skin was smooth and surprisingly soft under
her fingers. The zinging shock traveling up her arm was oddly disturbing. He flinched. She snapped her hand away and swallowed. “The bite didn’t break the skin. You won’t need a tetanus shot.”
“That’s a plus.”
She strode to the fridge on the workbench where she kept her veterinary supplies. From the small freezer section, she extracted an ice pack. She fumbled with the pack before she could get a good grip and was glad the door hid her clumsiness. When she spied two smaller packs, she nearly grabbed one to cool her forehead, then thought better of it. In a few minutes, she’d head to the house and take a shower before starting on the afternoon chores. That’s what she needed, a break. After this morning, who could blame her?
She snagged a towel from the battered cabinet above the bench. The off-white terry cloth fell from her grip and landed on her other arm. As if that was her plan, she placed the pack over the towel and wrapped it. As she draped the pack over his shoulder, her fingers brushed the heated skin. Her body’s immediate and shockingly rapid tightening stole her breath.
She moved away, feeling a bit light-headed. “Leave that on for twenty minutes.”
He shifted the ice pack and winced.
She hung on to the door frame with one hand. “You really should go to a doctor and make sure there’s no permanent damage.”
“I don’t have any medical insurance.”
Of course he wouldn’t. He was a drifter, going from job to job. “My horse caused the damage. I’ll pay for the visit.”
“That’s not necessary. All it needs is ice.”
“I have to go to Beaumont tomorrow anyway.”
He frowned as if a trip into the city would prove more unpleasant than the pain of a bite from an angry horse. “I’ll think about it.”
There was something stoic about the way he sat on that trunk—as if he was bracing himself for something unpleasant yet pretending he didn’t care. The scars, she thought as her gaze traced the network on his back. He thinks I’ll ask about the scars.
